We’d visited there once before and fell in love with it. It’s a small island with only a handful of resorts on it, and most of those are fairly small themselves. The pace there is slow, there’s not a great deal to do or to explore, but the ocean and beaches are stunning. The whole thing is perfect for us.
We stayed at a tiny resort called Villa Bellerena. It consisted of 45 wooden cabins, each with ample furniture and space.
Villa Bellereana had it’s own (saltwater) pool, restaurant, and bar. All modest, all delightful. The staff at Villa Bellereana remained the same while we were there. Because it was such a small resort we got to know the staff a little, and I looked forward to seeing them each day. Our little resort was adjacent to a slightly larger resort called Bella Isla that offered a few additional choices, if one felt so inclined.
Years ago, these resorts had their own on-site beaches. The evidence of them are still there, however the climate has changed. Hurricanes passed through and washed away the beaches. Now the wooden walkways down to the beach end in a 10-15ft drop onto sharp rocks and surging waves. We’d often walk out to the end of a walkway and sit to listen to the ocean and watch the hypnotic surf.
This was as fulfilling by moonlight as it was by daylight. When we arrived the moon was waxing up from a crescent. We are so accustomed to light pollution here in Toronto that it is a pleasant surprise to behold the sky at night. There were stars to marvel at, and moonlight illuminated the night even while the moon was only 1/4 of its fullness. By the time we left it waxed to about 3/4 and its silver light on a clear night was wondrous.
During our days on the resort I spent a bit of time on some botanical drawings, one of the ubiquitous ixora and another of the similarly ubiquitous croton.
There is a teeny, tiny little island just northwest of Cayo Largo that is aptly called Iguana Island. If it has another name, I haven’t heard it.
I don’t know the story of how the iguanas got there, but it’s populated by a lively crew of reptiles. There are all sizes from small babies to large, imposing males. Many tourist boats stop there to visit the iguanas. Sometimes they are fed, so there is always a welcome party waiting to greet tourists on the beach. They are not afraid of humans and will hang around, or carry on with daily iguana business, while we walk about.
I brought my sketchbook with me on this trip to Iguana Island and settled into the rocky sand near the shore to do some sketches.
The iguanas were most cooperative as far as live animal subjects go. However, I’m still not fast enough to capture more than gestures.
There is also a fairly shallow lagoon the tourist boats stop at. Last time we were there I recall the water being about knee height, or perhaps mid-thigh. This time it was hip to waist height on me. I’m wondering whether the climate is just trying to erode Cayo Largo entirely…
While wandering and wading through this bay one is likely find a starfish or several hanging about. There were, but they were few and I didn’t want to disturb them too much.
As Mr. P and I made our way back to the boat (last ones in, as usual) we realized we were being followed. A pair of large silver fish were dogging our steps. They were a foot and a half, maybe two feet, long. Refraction makes it hard to estimate. Large and round, their form was pleasing in a fishy way. They darted and weaved between us as we waded through clear, hip-deep water. They persisted for quite awhile, even receiving a bit of a kick when they misjudged Mr. P’s steps.
At one point I began to wonder if they were pursuing us and, if so, why. I stopped walking and turned around to try to get a better look at them. They caught up to me, I held still.
One took an exploratory nibble at a toe, which I did not tolerate. I’m not a fan of being bitten by fish, so we hustled (as far as hip-deep water will allow) back to the boat. If you ever meet Mr. P in person, ask him to tell you the story of the little fish that bit me. On my bum. On our first holiday together. He’ll probably tell you, once he’s done laughing.
Our favourite beach on Cayo Largo is called Paraiso. The first time we encountered the word, we thought it was “Paradise.” Although we know better now, it’s still paradise for us. The beach is stunning, there aren’t many other people who go there, and one can get a beer pretty easily.
Paraiso also sports a brackish lagoon. I’ve previously inspected it for wildlife and found only small fish and sand pipers. This year there was what I think is a caiman living in it. It was maybe 3 or 4 feet long, kinda skinny, dark in colour. It basked in the shallow margins and disappeared into the murky depths at the centre of the lagoon when it tired of attention. The nearby snack bar fed it leftovers from lunch, usually chicken bones. It seemed to be a content little reptile.
 |
| Little fella has quite a view |
I don’t know how a baby croc would get to Cayo Largo from either location, but it’s possible. Animals have certainly travelled further. If one did arrive by chance, I suspect it wouldn’t be left to its own devices in a lagoon on a tourist beach. It seems more likely to me that a feral caiman made the journey (particularly since they are known to be on Isla de la Juventud) and has settled into a pretty good existence for the time being. Whatever its reptilian reasons are for being there, I went over to visit each time we were at Paraiso. This scaly fellow was yet another reason to feel sad when it was time to leave.
Of course we’re going back, it’s a matter of when. Cayo Largo suits Mr. P and I perfectly.
No comments:
Post a Comment